I’ve been struggling with my thoughts on the television legacy of Ozzy Osbourne since the news of his death one week ago today. Osbourne’s musical legacy is relatively unassailable, even to non-metalheads. One can argue over what recording constituted the origin of metal, but no sensible person can disagree with the notion that Osbourne and Black Sabbath popularized and consecrated the musical form between 1970 and 1978.
Songs like “War Pigs,” “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath,” “Paranoid,” and “Iron Man” set the template for the sound of metal and proved that the heavy, pounding sound the band created could be made into a career. Due to Osbourne’s erratic drug-related behavior, he fell out with his band and was fired after the “Never Say Die!” album. The band carried on successfully with new lead singer Ronnie James Dio. Osbourne ventured into a solo recording career.
There was no guarantee that Osbourne would be able to make the transition from the frontman of Sabbath to a solo act. His substance abuse issues still dogged him, as did the behavioral problems that led to his dismissal from his hallowed band. Osbourne found a kindred spirit in the young guitarist Randy Rhoads, and perhaps surprisingly, his debut solo album “Blizzard of Ozz” was a massive success, selling more than five million copies, fueled by the singles “Crazy Train” and “Mr. Crowley.”
“Blizzard of Ozz” kicked off an extraordinary quarter-century run of platinum and multi-platinum albums from 1980 through 2005. All told, Osbourne released eight albums of original material over that stretch, selling over twenty-two million LPs.
Just as Osbourne’s recording career appeared to be on the wane at the turn of the century, new life was breathed into his celebrity lungs by the instant smash MTV series The Osbournes, which debuted in 2002. In short order, it became the most watched series in the history of the network, and kicked off a whole cottage industry of reality shows that would find success by following the famous (and infamous) around.
While creating and normalizing reality celebrity TV can undoubtedly be seen as a shallow legacy, that aspect of The Osbournes bothered me less than the way the series mined comedy from the family dynamic of Ozzy, his wife Sharon, son Jack, and daughter Kelly. Ozzy was decidedly addled (by his own admission) during the filming of the series’ four seasons. He was experiencing tremors that were later diagnosed as a symptom of Parkinson’s, and while his substance abuse didn’t rival his wildest years in rock and roll, it was significant enough to turn the “Prince of Darkness” into a stuttering and often unintelligible mess. Ozzy’s affect was the key element of humor in the show, and those who watched (including myself) laughed.
Upon reflection, the source of my amusement (as well as many others) was at the expense of an unwell and declining man. Osbourne himself later stated that he couldn’t watch his own show because he was “stoned the whole time.” His wife, Sharon, confirmed. To put it another way, we weren’t laughing with Ozzy; we were laughing at him. I don’t know how anyone can deny that or feel good about it. I know I can’t.
For far too many (the show appealed far beyond Ozzy’s music-based fans), The Osbournes is how they came to know, and now remember, the heavy metal icon. Osbourne, a two-time Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductee (for his Sabbath and solo accomplishments), is a groundbreaking artist who is considered the godfather of his genre. I believe he deserves far better.
In the subsequent years since The Osbournes left the air, Ozzy’s history as a recording artist has come more to the fore. After all, The Osbournes encompassed just four years of a fifty-five-year career built primarily on musical achievement. His touring heavy metal festival Ozzfest remained a huge attraction (with Osbourne headlining) until 2018. Osbourne recorded five successful solo albums after the show and reunited with Black Sabbath for another. He and his old mates even toured together for three separate stints, to great acclaim and sales.
Ozzy’s final artistic endeavor was to perform one final benefit concert with the original Sabbath lineup on July 5 of this year. The concert, dubbed “Back to the Beginning,” raised over 140 million pounds for a children’s hospital in his native England and a UK-based Parkinson’s research center. Osbourne was no longer able to stand while performing, and instead sang from an ornate throne.
For a man who courted controversy his whole adult life, who abused drugs and alcohol, and was frequently (and laughably) called a Satan worshipper, this final act spoke to something significant about his nature. Something far more decent. That’s how I’d like to remember him as a great and troubled artist with a damn fine heart.
To hell with the show.
Ozzy Osbourne died on July 22, 2025. He was 76 years old.
